Life After Death
by michieexx3
Summary: The brothers end up in the midst of a detective. When an old comes into the picture, will they be able to stop it? Will they be able to save the woman, who just happens to be their captor? And what is her tie to 'the threat? Possible SamOC.


**May 17th, 2007.**

The gates leading into the depths of the ever dreaded Hell were opened by none other than the Winchester brothers; Sam and Dean. They thought all the trouble would be over just a tad, because of the death of Azazel. Bloody hell, were the infamous pair among the world of the supernatural and unexplained wrong. Demons swarmed about the area. They flew and swayed within the air until the gates were closed. They escaped. The demons escaped. Oh, and spirits had escaped, as well. Where would all these tortured, broken-hearted or malicious beings head to? Whose lives would be altered negatively because of their presence? There was very much to determine, really.

And who would be the one to get rid of them all?

**A few months later.**

It was November 1st in the year 2007. The tiny pebbles on the ground of the streets of Jericho, California, rumbled. They sounded off to the motion of one's fast paced footsteps. Well, they were not so much steps. The person in particular who was on the move was running. Yes, they were running quite fast indeed. It was a man. He rushed in a frenzy to his car, which was parked near the Centennnial highway, near the Sylvania Bridge. There was someone following him. A woman. A woman who was clad in a knee length white dress. Her hair was dark, and swayed in the wind as she stalked after the man, a menacing gleam in her darkened orbs.

The male had gotten into his car and started the ignition. Little did he know, whoever was following him had managed to slip into the car. Somehow, they had slipped into the vehicle. He drove off, not knowing that there was someone else in the car with him. He sped off into the night. As the sweat leaked from the top of his head, he gulped. He chuckled and grinned in relief. Suddenly, a chill filled the car, and the man froze. He turned his gaze to the passenger seat, only to see the murdeous looking female sitting beside him. His eyes widened and he screamed. She leapt forward, power surging through her.

Moments had past. Loud, horribly frightened screams flowed into the breeze. Then, blood splattered into the car, and the swaying of the method of transportation itself had ceased in existence. The red fluid of life covered the front and side windows, and drizzled slowly down the glass. His most important inward part of his body was out of the form it was previously in. That was the heart. The part in question that was pumping outside of the chest of his lanky, short build.

**The next morning; November 2nd, 2007.**

_5:55 AM._

With a gasp of fear, Alaina Velasquez shot up in her bed. She was in an absolutely frigid sweat. Her breathing was fast and deep. Her chest was heaving up and down in a slow motion. The volume of the sound-filled gesture was low. Alaina's eyes were wide. She lifted her hand and ran it through her dark shaded locks. Alaina lowered her eyes to the clock on her night stand. She sat up from her bed, clad in merely a lacy, black bra and gray female boxers. These dreams were haunting her every night. They felt so real. They were just so incredibly vivid. Alaina could never quite explain anything about them. Well, if she were asked, she probably would be able to explain. The fact remained, though, that she preferred not to disclose such information. Besides, would anyone really care what she dreamt? Quite frankly, Alaina had a hard enough time earning the respect of the people that she worked with.

Her chosen occupation? A detective.

From the age of eighteen, fresh out of high school, Alaina trained to be a detective. She longed to work against the criminals of California and whoever just happened to stumble into the location. Alaina wanted to be just like her dad, who was chief in the department, the area she worked in. It took her a long time to get to where she was, but she made it. Alaina truly looked up to her father, Miguel Carmine Velasquez. She idolised the man. She knew that even he would not care to her about what went on within her mind while she was asleep, huddled up under the blankets that laid on top of her bed. She hopped into the shower.

The trickles of water ran along the crevices of Alaina's form as she scrubbed her hair gently with shampoo. Her palms flowed down the curves of hers, slowly. Showers always felt so wonderful. They were also a method of keeping one's mind off of thoughts that involved anything that would be considered turmoil to most. Once she was finished, she dried off her hair.

It was soon time for coffee clad in only her black, knee length robe, and the completion of the novel that she was reading the previous night, before she had fallen asleep. Then it was just about time to get dressed. Her choices of clothing? A deep red button-up blouse, black pants and black, leather boots. Dressing for work did not require much color, honestly. Not that Alaina really cared much. It was quite obviously not about attire, her job. Her job, which she would be heading to at 7:30 AM. That time was approaching fast, too. Thirty minutes away. She should have really been out of the house ten minutes ago, as usual, but she would not be late if she left at that moment. So, that was what Alaina did; she grabbed her brown, leather coat, and headed for the station, walking out of her door.

_7:28 AM._

When Alaina had stepped into the building, she whipped off her sunglasses, and shoved them into the pocket of her coat, she spotted her co-worker, Jonathan Pearlman walk toward her. The woman released a sigh at the sight of him, and then nodded in his general direction. The nod being her method of a greeting, truthfully. A hint of a smile swept across her lips, and she raised her brows. She pursed her lips, briefly, then called out to the male, once he was three feet away, crossing her arms over her frame, "What's happening, Pearlman?" Jonathan came closer to her, and she glanced down at the papers and folders that he had in his hand. She tilted her head to the side, then diverted her eyes away from the documents and up to his, "What's all that?" Alaina squinted her eyes, "Anything good?" A smirk replaced the smile on her features, and Jonathan shook his head.

Alaina's eyebrows creased, "Right.. Just give me all this--" John held up the folders, higher from her reach. When Alaina tried to get it, she muttered, "Real professional, jack ass. Seriously!" Pearlman laughed quietly, and lowered the papers, but kept them out of her grasp, still, "You didn't give me a chance to tell you about it, Al. But now that you're quiet I will." He opened up the folder, and edged his head in the direction of where he was heading to, which was the path the two began to walk. Alaina eyed him, waiting for him to explain.

"Okay?" She questioned, a sarcastic air to her tone at his silence. Jonathan glanced at her, briefly, and then spoke up, finally, "We have two cases, actually, Velasquez." Alaina's eyes widened slightly, and repeated, "Two cases?"

"Yes. One was appointed to us, assisting Henricksen." John flipped to the next set of papers, involving the second case, "The other is about a murder on the Sylvania Bridge." He peered at Alaina, who had stopped walking. She appeared to be really deep in thought, looking down at the floor, as he continued to speak, "Some think the two might be connected." His own brows furrowed and he inquired, "Are you alright?" Alaina's head and gaze shot back up to him, and she answered with a nod, "Yeah," She nodded again,"..yeah. I'm fine. So," She ran a hand through her hair, and placed her hand on her hips, "how do they think the two are connected, anyway?" The dream she had was in no relation to the case. Just a coincidence. It had to be.

"You know the story with the Winchesters, right?" John questioned, and Alaina's brow kinked as she countered in an amused tone of voice, parting from her thoughts, "Aside from the fact that you have the same name as the daddy?" The man beside her rolled his eyes and asked another question, "Could you please be serious?" Alaina swatted his arm lightly, "It was a joke, tight wad." She chuckled, then nodded, "But, yes." She rubbed the back of her neck, and nodded, "I know about them. Dozens of cases revolve around 'em." She looked down at the files, then up at John again, "What about them this time?" Her eyebrows went up, then down down once more, as she added, "You know, besides the fact that Henricksen can't catch these guys on his own?"

Jonathan laughed at her comment, then closed the folder, containing the many, many papers. He let out a breath, then replied to her, "Well, records show that they were involved last time murders occurred along that area. The sheriff running the case at the time apparently found the Winchesters at some cheap ass motel." He shrugged, "Detective Velasquez, your father, figured it was worth looking into it, and worth helping Agent Henricksen in this wild goose chase."

Alaina nodded her head, signalling that she was listening. The sound of a sigh escaped the latina's being, and then she said with an expression of pride sliding across her face, "I guarantee you, with me on the case, it won't be a wild goose chase anymore, Johnny boy." She patted him on the back, and stepped into the elevator. Jonathan turned around to look at her, and grinned, thinking to himself, 'What a girl.' Out loud, he responsed with a kink of his eyebrows, "Hope you're right."

Alaina looked at him from the corner of her eye, as she clicked the button on the elevators, leading to a higher floor, "Oh, I am. Believe me."


End file.
